


Dystopia - Prologue

by bunsterjonez



Series: Dystopia [1]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love Triangles, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Other, Possible Character Death, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunsterjonez/pseuds/bunsterjonez
Summary: OsCorp and Stark Industries joint ventures were supposed to be a beacon of prosperity for the Nation. Until Thanos took over. The inevitable resulting dystopia forced the Eight to band together and fight for survival in the midst of a decaying society. But now the Underground is in peril – from both outside forces, and the turmoil growing within. (Bucky Barnes x Reader, Matt Murdock x Reader)





	Dystopia - Prologue

The Underground had been Steve’s brainchild, though he would refuse to take the credit himself. When the Eight of you had banded together to escape the devastation done by Stark and OsCorp’s joint venture, he hadn’t imagined that a brand new society would emerge within the very bowels of the city.

Your group knew how to keep each other alive; you’d all grown to know your strengths, your weaknesses, and how best to complement each other to ensure your survival in the decaying wasteland that had become of your home. It wasn’t long before you began helping those who needed it along your way… until you promptly realized that some people didn’t want to be helped. They would only help themselves.

Ironically, that was what spawned Steve’s idea for the Underground: you helped yourselves, took care of your own. Greed had no place here; you worked hard, you survived. It was a simple rule.

A criteria list was put in place; a job for everyone. If anybody slacked, if they put another citizen in danger, if they hoarded goods meant for someone else, they were out. Back Up Above.

Carpenters, architects, plumbers, construction workers, all built the foundations of their new society through the now abandoned subway networks and sewer systems. Farmers, weavers, scientists took care of nutrition, clothing, and general goods. Soldiers and military veterans trained and protected your new home. They passed on their trades to other citizens when it was their time to leave this world. Achieving Independent Nation status, you thought you were safe from Thanos’ Triad. You were naive to think so.

Other similar nations popped up; lesser in numbers, but inspired by the Eight’s efforts. They were swiftly taken down, but more would pop up on their place. The Eight had given the oppressed hope. And Thanos would not have it.

***

The people Up Above didn’t have a chance in hell. Between the radiation poisoning, the lack of food, clean water, and honest work led them to gruesome and miserable fates. Unless you worked for Stark, OsCorp, or Thanos, you struggled to make ends meet, ending up in the outskirts of their glowing circle, hope far beyond their reach. They traded what they could, stole what they needed, killed if they had to. Between Thanos’ city and the Underground, there lay the Wastelands, no man’s land.

Leading the Scavenger Corps, Bucky and Clint would oversee trainees, deter some of the mutated and guerrilla bandits as they gathered tools or supplies for the Underground. But as the days went by, and the number of people in need grew, Bucky was determined to do something about it.

It was only a bit of food, and the Underground had plenty. Steve didn’t see things his way.

“You’re wasting our resources on them!” He’d rounded on Bucky once Clint let it slip that he had been sneaking food Up Above.

“What’s a waste is hoarding all our goods when there’s thousands up there that need it!” Bucky had argued.

“How long do you think they’ll last up there? Huh? How much time d’you think you bought them with a few scraps and no other way to survive?” Steve had become hardened by this war. The Underground was their home, and the people from Up Above weren’t his responsibility. He didn’t see them as people anymore. He’d forgotten that they were once just like them.

“You didn’t do them a favor, Buck, you just sentenced them to wander around up there while they just wait longer to die!”

“If we don’t help them, how are we any better than those pricks up at Stark Tower?”

“This isn’t about who’s better, it never was!” Steve matched his tone, desperate to make his friend understand. “It’s about survival.”

“Then let’s help them survive!”

Steve walked around the table between them, fixing Bucky with a stern look. “Have you thought about anyone else here at all? About Y/N? Her safety?”

Bucky bristled at the accusation. “That’s a low blow, Steve.”

“‘Cause I don’t think you have. What happens when the first bag of food goes missing?” Steve glowered. “When the first rape happens? The first murder? Huh? Not everyone follows the rules, Buck, not when they’ve been out there for so long. Rules become inconsequential.”

“Some people need a leg up, not everyone is like us. Why can’t you understand this?” Bucky pleaded.

“You know very well what happened last time.” Bucky threw his hands up in frustration, turning away from his friend. “We have a responsibility to the people here and now, Buck. And if you can’t understand that…” Steve shook his head, not believing he was about to say the words out loud. “You’re allowed to leave if you want to, I’m not keeping you here.”

Bucky turned sharply to face him, stunned. “You want me to leave?”

“No, I don’t want you to, Buck. None of us do.”

“You won’t even gather the others to talk this out, now you’re just running me off the place?!”

“This is not up for debate!” Steve now shouted at him. “We’re not bringing anybody new unless they meet requirements, and that’s final!”

“What the hell is going on here?” you burst into the room an closed the door; their shouting match had gotten exponentially louder, attracting a crowd of concerned onlookers outside.

The two men were breathing heavily, squaring off against each other in indignation, not a word acknowledging your presence.

“Guys…? Mind telling me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Steve said, not looking away from Bucky.

“Nothing at all,” Bucky echoed, unblinking blue eyes on Steve.

“Bullshit.”

They finally broke their staring match to look in your direction, Bucky’s eyes failing to meet yours.

“It’s up to you, Buck,” Steve’s low voice rumbled, before he swept out the room, slamming the door behind him.

***

You’d begged Bucky to stay, told him you’d go with him if he asked you… but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything at all. The only thing he had left you with was the bloodied scanner implant that allowed him entry into the Underground, dug out of his arm no doubt, on your lab workbench.

You were thankful for the rickety plumbing that night, as you stood under the water flowing from the ceiling showers. Your face in your hands, you hoped it would muffle the gasping sobs, the water masking the flow of steady tears streaming down your face.

You heard footsteps outside; Steve’s heavy boots carrying a weight greater than his build.

You took in a sharp breath, attempting to quell your crying. There was no time for mourning down here, after all.

“He was spotted in Freight Village,” Steve’s voice broke through the echoing noise. “Looks like he’s setting up shop there. Helping the locals.”

You weren’t sure what to do with this information, so you stayed quiet. The Temporary Housing Project, another bright Stark idea, had repurposed over ten million unused freight cars for the needy people Up Above. Now the Wastelands streets were lined with stacks of the things; never outfitted for proper housing, the people they were supposed to be helping forgotten and invisible under the bright lights of Stark’s high rise buildings. Freight Village was one of the smaller communities that kept to themselves with minor trouble amidst drug and booze dens; clans taking over and fighting breaking out almost every night; be it for turf, goods, or pleasure. Bucky could handle himself in a fight, but the thought of him out there by himself on his goddamn mercy mission wasn’t a comforting one.

“Y/N…” you held your breath, for some reason terrified Steve would keep talking and you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together. “I’m sorry, I… I never thought…”

He blamed himself. He should have known Bucky would call out this bluff. They were just too damn stubborn. But Bucky made his choice… and that meant he’d made the choice for everyone else along the way.

You exhaled, more out of necessity than anything else. Steve couldn’t afford to question himself, not now. “Rules are rules.” you said monotonously, betraying neither stoicness nor grief. It was just a fact. “He broke them. Not your fault.”

You shut off the water, grabbing a robe from the top of the wall dividers that obscured you from view. You heard Steve sigh, saw his silhouette crouch down as he sat down on a nearby bench. “Are you… going to be ok?”

You closed your eyes at his words, leaning back on the shower wall. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a plea. He’d just lost his best friend. He wouldn’t be able to keep being Steve Rogers, Defender of the Underground, without you. Bucky hadn’t only taken a part of yourself with him, hadn’t just broken your heart. He’d broken Steve’s too.

But there was a war to fight, people to watch over, a nation to protect. There was nothing you could do for Bucky now. Such was the life here in the Underground. You overcame. You adapted. You survived. _If you get killed, walk it off._

“Don’t worry about me, Steve.” you said, your head low, forcing out the words, even if you didn’t quite believe them. “I’ll live. And so will you.”

***

It had been a saga of bad luck at every turn, even before it all went to hell. It always seemed that you were brought in when things were most dire, to turn things around, and once everything was working seamlessly, you simply weren’t needed anymore. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.

You hadn’t exactly been surprised when news reached your department that Stark had bought out AIM; being the Chief of Communications Technology you were well apprised of the struggles Aldrich Killian was having against his main competitor. But when Stark’s agents began handing out termination letters like candy, you were thankful for the prototypes and blueprints you’d safely hidden away in hard drives back home.

You’d helped build the communications lab at AIM after all. It was only fitting you’d have to do it all over again. And thanks to Sam’s military engineering background, your lab was properly set up for you to provide support doing what you did best: monitoring outside communications and upgrading security to keep everybody safe. For once, you’d be one step ahead.

“Unrest in Midland Circle is growing, health unions are being disbanded one by one,” you told Peggy, as she scanned your holo-map with her tablet.

“Monitor for two more days,” Peggy said, jotting down checkmarks on the map now downloaded on her device. “I’ll have to run it by Nick, but I’m sure he’ll want to send out a recruiting party soon. We need doctors.”

Nick Fury had been a highly influential member of the governing party, and a friend of Tony Stark. He was positioned for a Presidential run, promising Stark a role in restructuring Science and Technology within his party. Of course, Osborne and Thanos had other plans.

“There’s also rumors of a new Restrictive Order being battled out in the Courts,” you continued, pulling up sources and leaks from various sites and channels. “Nothing concrete, but odds are it could hurt us if they get their way.”

Peggy sighed. “As they usually do. See if you can find a reliable source, we may need some legal help.”

You nodded, already setting your commands to scan your media contacts and alternate sources. The Courts were a sham at this point, a political show put on for the media to give them something to do. News weren’t found in papers or TV; only whispers, hearsay for only the very tenacious and strong-willed, just to have them chase lead after lead after dead end, and be bought by the Triad in the end… or killed for digging into the right well.

Peggy turned to leave, before stopping at the door. “Have you heard from…?”

She trailed off, and you looked up to meet her eyes, a concerned look on her face. But you knew it wasn’t solely for you.

“Not directly,” you said hesitantly. Here and there transmissions had made their way to you, and the careful way in which they caught your attention was enough to know who exactly was responsible. You’d detached yourself completely, confirming data and passing it along to Steve and Peggy as required. But now Bucky was just another source from Up Above. And that was all you could bear to know him as. For both you and Steve’s sake. For the Underground.

Peggy nodded in understanding, though the sadness in her expression was hard to mask. “It’s just… I can tell he worries.”

You knew; it was in Steve’s nature to do so. And while He and Peggy tried to hide their feelings for each other, you knew she worried about him just as much.

_It’s not their burden to bear._

Just another thing for you to take on as the Underground grew. Everyone had a job to do, and you’d make sure they stay on task… even if it meant drowning under the weight of the problems of others.

Lowering your gaze, you replied quietly, “He’s got enough to worry about.” Breathing deep, you debated on the right words to say, the words you knew would reach Steve’s ears. “Being a source suits Barnes,” your voice trembled slightly as you forced yourself not to use his nickname. “Suits us, too. There’s no need to worry for the time being.”

A beep on your console alerted you to a new incoming transmission; an underground reporter, Karen Page, had just sent out a press release to you and other neighboring nations, leaking details from the Restrictive Order Thanos wanted to push through. Peggy noticed your expression tighten as you read the news. “What is it?”

“Something to worry about,” you said evenly. “Get Steve, and gather the others. We got work to do.”


End file.
